Human: The Story of the Beast

Story by Dana Young

Human

Tracey Tallavan II rocks back and forth in her rocking chair as her eyes scan the little children seated indian-style at her feet. Their faces are serious, attentive, but their bodies are doing their own little dances as they eagerly await a story.

Toby, the youngest speaks in his usual soft tone. "Grandma, can you tell us another kind of story tonight?"

"What kind of story, T.?

He smiles at the familiar nickname that only sounds right rolling off his grandma's tongue. "About our family. No one ever tells us anything." He thinks for a second and then adds "Cuz we're kids."

"That sounds about right." She closes her eyes, deep in thought for a moment. "Okay. This story is about your great, great grandmother and her daughter. My mother did not want this story to ever be told, but you all need to know what happened."

ONE

Tracey hacks away at the dirt, like it offends her. Her hands are sore, red, and scarred but she continues. The sun begins to set, allowing darkness to consume the section of the yard she is in. She does not stop. Not when the sun sets completely. Not when the eerie screams of wild animals settle in her ears. She continues to dig until the hole in the ground is about six feet in length and depth. Then she pries open the end of the sheet surrounding the body and rolls it into the ditch.

"Owwooooooo!! Owwooooooooooooo!!"

The screams get louder. Tracey rapidly begins to shovel dirt into the hole. Then she grabs her tools and runs out of the yard. She runs past Ms. Finney's house, the broken cobblestone path littered with trees, and several other houses before rushing into her own. She dims the lights in her living room and walks the 15 feet or so into the hallway. The basement door is made from thick layers of titanium, but she isn't sure if it will hold the weight of the beast for much longer. The floor near the door trembles as the beast rushes up the stairs and strikes the door repeatedly.

"You're not getting out, Mom! You can bang all you want!"

The howls get louder, matching the pounding on the door. Tracey backs up into a wall and slides down, arms around her knees. The pounding increases. The beast can not free itself. So it howls in outrage and hunger. Tears roll slowly down her already soaked cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I-I'm sorry. I can't free you. I can't. You aren't human anymore. You just killed Sasha! I can't kill you...but I won't free you."

The beast suddenly stops banging. Tracey stands, still, gazing in bewilderment at the door. She takes a couple steps towards the door and then jumps back when the banging starts again. Once, twice, three, four times and then silence. Her palms feel clammy and her heart begins to beat a steady, fast rhythm. She runs from the door to the spot in the hallway where the pull-down stairs land. The staircase lands with a deafening thump at her feet and she rushes into the attic pulling the staircase with her.

BOOOM! The basement door crashes to the floor. Tracey peeks into the living room through the slits in the attic floor. Her heart is thumping, her hands clammy, and she has a sudden urge to use the bathroom. She holds her breath. Forcing herself not to breathe or even think. The beast walks around the living room on all four legs, sniffing the air for her scent.

The urge to pee gets stronger and she starts to squirm. At that moment the beast looks up, and her heart stops. She puts her hands over her mouth, silently pleading with the beast to search in another place. The beast just stands there sniffing the air and howling for a few seconds. Suddenly it stands on two legs and glares at the ceiling. Straight into her eyes. Gasping, she scoots along the floor to the attic window and huddles there.